Chapter 64
“Stop going in circles with useless thoughts. Trust your body. That’s the easiest path for both of us. Isn’t it?”
He whispered, as though brainwashing her.
He slid his left hand under the b*****s crushed against the table and kneaded them roughly. His greedy, merciless touch was as if he were clutching her heart itself in his palm. Prina could do nothing but surrender her body, unable to move one way or the other.
“After all, your heart beats only for me… haah.”
“Ahngh, ah!”
“At the very least, your p***y’s mad for me.”
Even as he gripped and squeezed tight enough to burst, she couldn’t deny it. The corners of her lips, dragged upward against her will, trembled uncontrollably.
“Should I flip you over? I’ll suck your tits. You love giving them to me, don’t you?”
“Ahhng, hhhnn.”
“F**k, then hurry up and get pregnant. So you’ll really make milk. Hm?”
Before she could answer, her body was turned over.
The sudden absence of his c**k made her p***y gape and twitch, yearning for him, releasing a needy, sticky breath.
The sensation was so vivid.
Even as her mind repeated resignation, her body diligently responded, crumbling apart… the fact that it was still so alive felt unbearably sharp. And that clarity made it both laughable, and terrifying.
Her flesh lived vividly, but her soul was so clearly dying.
* * *
One day, Happy died.
That morning, when she looked into the nest, Happy seemed strange.
At first Prina thought the little bird was simply sleeping soundly, but he didn’t move. Normally, when she scratched his fluffy cheek with a fingertip, he would purr softly in delight. When he woke, he would flap his wings, flutter around her, even show affection.
But just like that, Happy died.
The feeling at her fingertips was cold and alien. It was Happy, and yet, it wasn’t Happy.
Prina sat for a long time, dazed, waiting for him to stir, but in the end she had no choice but to accept the truth. The bird was dead.
And what could one do with the dead? One had to bury them.
She couldn’t cling to a corpse.
Wrapping Happy in a handkerchief, Prina took a small spade and headed for the garden. Lucky trailed after her.
She dug into the earth at a spot beneath a tree beside the vegetable patch. Often, when Happy followed her out here, he would rest in that shade. Those had been carefree, happy moments.
Prina had once hoped for a different kind of parting, that someday Happy would take flight from here and never return. She had told him so, urged him to fly away, to leave and soar far, far off. She had never imagined their parting would come like this. It felt strange.
She laid Happy into the hollow and stared blankly. Just yesterday, the bird had been fine.
Flapping his wings, perching on her fingertips, eating well. Soon he would’ve learned to sing, too.
Happy was really dead? No, that couldn’t be.
He looked so peaceful, as if only asleep. Yesterday, maybe he had just been tired. After all, she’d urged him to sing again and again, and perhaps given too much seeds for dinner. His belly had been full, his body weary.
So he was only sleeping longer than usual. That was all. Just wait a little more. Just a little. Perhaps Happy would wake again.
Prina waited for a long while over the little body laid in the earth. But of course, he never moved. A dead bird could never open its eyes again.
Forget. Bury and forget.
All life dies. The smaller the life, the more easily. Sometimes for trivial reasons, sometimes for no reason at all. Tiny lives flicker out countless times in a single day.
Even the patients she had tended day and night at the convent, praying for them with all her heart, had died.
This wasn’t because of Hunter. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Such things simply happened in the course of living.
A ‘grim reaper’? Nonsense. She was only thinking strangely because she saw too much. Better to let go. To send it off, and put an end to it.
Prina scooped a spadeful of earth with her small trowel. The moment she scattered it over Happy’s still form…
Drip.
A tear slid down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away with the back of her hand, though no one was watching. There was no reason to cry. This was only the way of things.
She dug another large scoop. Happy would feel cold, she thought. Best to cover him quickly.
As the soil fell, it buried Happy little by little.
Drip. Drip.
But tears spilled uncontrollably. The back of her hand, her palm, wiping made no difference. Her face grew drenched with tearstains, a mess. Soon even sobs welled up from within her.
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